


Secret

by tyomawrites



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AND FLUFF ENSUES, Beginning Angst, Ending fluff, M/M, Sherlock Holmes is Greg Lestrades secret., Sherlock Holmes is Greg Lestrades’ secret., Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 11:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1385203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyomawrites/pseuds/tyomawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Greg, Sherlock was his dark secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NegativEvitageN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NegativEvitageN/gifts).



> To NegativEvitageN, fluffy Sherstrade just for you.

He hated the darkness of his flat. He was alone once again. His wife left. Left him there. There to wallow in his sorrows, sorrows he drank away with wine, vodka, whisky, anything he could find in the cellar and pantry. The brightness of his phone blinded him as another text from John buzzed through.

_**Greg where are you? JW** _

And then there was work. Nothing was the same without the curly and dark haired, lean, obtuse bastard that stalked around the Yard.

**_Not coming into work John, I don't think I can be there right now. GL_ **

_'You've been saying that for the last eighteen months, it's a wonder you're not out of a job.'_ His mind whispered.

_**Greg, are you alone in your flat again? Sherlock wants to know if there's a case. JW** _

Of course the curly haired git wanted a case, he'd come back from the fucking dead. He had the damn audacity not to tell him, text him, leave _him_ a note, before he jumped.

_**Greg! Is this about Reichenbach? And Sherlock? JW** _

He squeezed his eyes shut, he hated the bright light. It wasn't helping the pounding migraine he had for the past few weeks. His eyes burned, so did his throat from crying himself to sleep at night.

_**Greg... Sherlock's worried about you. I told him you were in your flat and he's heading there now. JW** _

And there John goes, telling Sherlock. Why would Sherlock care? He seemed to care about John enough to leave  _him_ a note. But he had to find out from Donavan, a full hour from the actual jump! AN HOUR!

_**Greg, is the door unlocked? -SH** _

The knock on his door startled him and he dropped his bottle of whiskey on the ground. It shattered and he slumped against the wall he poured the whiskey over, before glancing at the lighter he balanced between his forefinger and thumb. He dropped it next to the pool of whiskey soaking into the carpet before going to open the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Greg opened the door, Sherlock was greeted with the actual extent of the damage Lestrade had done both to himself and the flat.

"What did you do to yourself?" Sherlock gasped, losing his usually calm, calculated tone.

"Anything that would have speed up the process of dying." Lestrade blinked wearily at Sherlock.

"You're upset with me. And angry."

"Bloody hell I am Sherlock! I thought we were friends!" He shouted at the younger Holmes. "I thought we were more." He added with a whisper.

"We were more. You were mine. You're still mine. At least to me you are." Sherlock said, immediately pulling Lestrade into a hug, "Greg..." He began, before abandoning his sentence and burying his face into Greg's hair.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Greg tucked his head against Sherlock's chest, letting his tears fall for the umpteenth time since the fall.

"I missed you." He sobbed, his voice sounded awful, now that you could hear the emotion swamped. It was low and guttural and scratchy and raspy and it sounded broken.

"I missed you so much it hurt, I thought you were dead Sherlock!!" He cried into Sherlock's chest, his arms wrapping around Sherlock's waist. "And then you showed up out of bloody no where and you came back. I hated you for that I hated you because I needed you."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sherlock ran his fingers through Greg's hair, which had grown longer due to the lack of attention.

"Do you want to go inside?" Sherlock asked.

He felt Greg nod and pulled the man inside, heading straight to his bedroom and laying him on the untouched bed, before disappearing to the bathroom and bringing back a small, damp face towel and wiping Greg's face and pressing a soft, chaste to his lips, before stripping both Greg and himself to their pants and lay down next to him, wiping his arms and pressing soft kisses to the back of his neck. Lestrade curled into a ball, pressing his back against Sherlock's chest.

"I'm sorry love." Sherlock whispered, with a tone he only used for Greg. "M so sorry for how I left you." He caressed Gregs cheek softly, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear.

 

* * *

 

 

 

"I love you Sherlock." Greg whispered, turning to face Sherlock, placing a hand on his cheek, thumb softly rubbing his cheekbone, a small, gentle smile falling upon his lips as he leaned closer to Sherlock and kissed him softly. "Forever." He promised, letting Sherlock pull him against his chest.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song, Secret - The Pierces


End file.
